Caress the wind
by Anna Scathach
Summary: Holly missed the air, but especially the wind. Light as a feather, it would sweep her up and embrace her with a faint scent of spring. Or it would be a storm. Wind was freedom. Oneshot.


_A/N: This was inspired by a stay in the Alpes de Haute Provence in Southern France and later also in Marseille. To cut a long story short, I fell in love with this magnificent country and its language, and so I ended up on a random beach during the Mistral (fall, winter and spring storms), laughing like mad..._

_Dedicated to everybody here. I doubt you'll ever read this, but: You're amazing. I'll miss all of you._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The 'I am here, I am free...' part is from a German song called Perfekte Welle by Juli._

* * *

**_Caress the wind_**

The female elf Holly Short was tired. And she was sick of the artificial light and the faked "nature" in the Lower Elements. Ever since that time-travelling incident she hadn't left her workplace. Except that one time some years ago, when she had danced in the rain. She smiled at the memory, sighed, continued to work.

How she missed the air, so fresh. Air like no fairy could resist. Everyone went at least once a decade up to the surface to breathe the sweet air. Sure, the mudmen had polluted it, but it was still a thousand times better than the stuff she was forced to breathe down there.

Holly missed the air, but especially the wind. Light as a feather, it would sweep her up and embrace her with a faint scent of spring. Or it would be a storm, challenging her flying abilities, playing with her like a puppet on a lonely string. Wind was freedom.

She had to get out of there, fast. Or otherwise she would go crazy. It all felt so unreal down here. So unreal, even though she knew there was a real world above.

She missed flying, too. So she decided just to get out. She took her new set of wings and set off, longing for the sweet air she hadn't breathed since such a long time.

* * *

There she was, hovering above the mountains of a magnificent country. Southern France was quite popular these days among the younger elves, but despite the tourists, Holly had taken a shuttle to Cannes. When she emerged the crowds and flew up to the skies, she couldn't help laughing.

She finally was where she really belonged, in the skies, in the air, in the sunlight, in the wind. As free as a bird, she raced across the sky. Crossing clouds. Accompanying birds. Feeling the wind in her hair. Endless hours passed as the elf let herself fly with the wind, her heart filled with joy, her wings filled with freedom.

* * *

Several sunny days seemed to have gone by when she snapped out of her wonder, and took in the beautiful landscape below her. Beneath a light cover of clouds lay the Mediterranean Sea. The waves sparkled in the dazzling sunlight, beneath the deep blue mirror uncounted fish roamed in the waters, fisher boats moved above it. The wind carried the ocean's scent to Holly, and the overwhelming sensation of salt, sand, fish and something she thought could have been blue, or freedom, filled her nose. Faintly she also perceived the seagulls' hoarse cries and the sound of the waves in the distance. The sun shone down on her, although it was but April, and a light breeze waved from the open sea to the land.

Still smiling, Holly turned and let the wind carry her slowly along the coastline. The air enveloped her softly, leaving a scent of spring, of unknown flowers and herbs around her. She admired the view – white sand beaches, peaceful towns and little villages, boats, soft hills – until she arrived in the city that had been founded by the fairy folk long before the Romans or even the Greek came to the place where they would build a city later on, first called by the name of Massalia, then Massilia, and today Marseille.

Holly flew above the busy city, shielded from human eyes. Nothing had really changed during the centuries. Sure, the city had grown, but the humans were working the best they could, old men were selling fish at the Vieux Port, women were sunbathing, children were laughing. Up in the sky, Holly listened to the mindless chatter of elderly women, who were greeting each other out of their respective windows, the joking between younger humans, and the fishermen's good-natured banter.

* * *

When daylight began to fade and shadows grow longer and longer, Holly decided to fly into the nearby mountains. The wind had picked up, now not smelling of spring, but of mysterious perfumes and exotic odors. A short flight later, Holly looked down on the immense chain of the Alps. Breathtaking gorges, small towns, lavender fields and olive trees below all waited for the summer to come. But with the fresh wind that had led her there, life already seemed to pick up after the cold winter. The golden sunset coloured the mountains red and orange, and Holly decided to sleep in an olive tree that night. The murmuring of the trees in the sweet-smelling, soft wind sang her to sleep, and continued throughout the night as she dreamt of being a bird that was flying across a magnificent deep blue ocean, guided only by the wind that strangely smelt of liquorice.

* * *

Abruptly awoken by the roaring of a storm, Holly sat up the next morning. Although the sun had risen, the sky was covered in thick, black clouds. But the most astonishing was the wind: So soft and sweet it had been the day before, but it was wild and free then.

A savage laugh escaped Holly's lips. The wind was playing with her hair, long brown locks tangled in the storm. This was the only reason Holly had decided to grow it – the natural caress of the wind in her hair made her feel free and independent and, most of all, alive. To the hurling of the storm she flew up into the skies. Pushing and pulling the petite elf around in wild gusts, the wind took her in entirely. There was no room to think anymore. All that existed was the wind.

The wind, tangling her air.  
The wind, whirling her entire body around.  
The wind, roaring in her ears.  
The wind, freezing her from head to toe.  
The wind, smelling of liberty and independence and life.  
The wind, calling out to her with unchallenged force.

And so, when she was finally whirled along the coast again and managed to grab a rock and hold on for dear life, Holly wasn't afraid any more. There was no fear in her, of being swept up and thrown into the sea, or freezing to death, or breaking her neck falling from the rock, or surrendering to the wind. Carefree, but slowly, she walked forward to the edge. A laugh escaped her lips, caressing or killing, the wind was still beautiful and independent. And Holly Short stood in the middle of the storm and shouted:

"I am here, I am free; all I want is to be; I am here, I am free, I am here, I am free..."

And a sudden wave arrived on the shore, its noise making her melodious voice insignificant, and the wind snatched the sentence from her lips. He may have carried them across the world to someone else at a different coast, to a lonely child or a desperate woman or a suicidal man. All that was left was the elf Holly Short, whose hands were caressing something invisible in the air, standing at some beach or another in Southern France, with tangled hair, a laugh still on her face, the traces of tears running down her cheeks and the taste of salt on her lips.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed my other fics, especially Kiss the Rain. And please review to those who haven't yet..._

_Anna Scathach_


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